


Merry Christmas, Baby

by Sophia_Bee



Series: Charles and Erik: Man on The Train [4]
Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Cute, Fluff, Happy, M/M, Married Life, Mutant Husbands, Sex, Sex Positive, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Lehnsherr and Nurse Xavier enjoy the Christmas season.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> just a bit of silly, sexy Christmas fluff. It's a Very Sharon Christmas.

“Sharon will want us to go to church.” Charles says, looking up from the biscuit he’s just bitten into. It’s a very good biscuit, perfectly crumbly and tender. Erik glances up from his cup of coffee and levels a glare at Charles.

“No.” He says in a perfunctory manner then takes another sip of his coffee and gazes down at the newspaper that’s spread out in front of him. Charles rolls his eyes. It’s not like he hadn’t expected this. He is ready for battle.

“It’s a tradition.” Charles says. “The Westchester place to see and be seen on Christmas Eve. We can’t deny that to Sharon.”

“Break it.” Erik mutters, “Maybe she’ll extract her revenge by sending you the worlds largest fruit basket.” Charles knows his husband is joking, but that’s exactly what Sharon would do. They would probably get a knock on the door and open it to find some poor delivery boy half bent over under the weight of a massive basket full of more apples than they could ever possibly eat and will end up taking to the local food bank. It’s been over a year of being part of the Xavier clan and Erik still can’t grasp how Sharon’s passive-aggressiveness works. He’s also still entirely thrilled with the standing mixer that sits on their kitchen counter reminding Charles every day that he did NOT invite his mother to their wedding.

Charles bites into his biscuit. Really, it’s quite delicious. Maybe he should consider hating the standing mixer just a little less. Erik turns the page of his paper, as if this conversation is done. No. It is not done.

“You know, Scott went with me.” Charles says, a smile playing around his lips despite his effort to keep his tone serious. He feels Erik bristle from across the table.

“Sonofabitch, Charles, I told you before that I’m not Scott, and of course that weak spined douchebag went to church just like Sharon wanted and…” Erik’s voice trails off and his eyes narrow and his mouth pinches tight. Charles takes another bite of his biscuit and blinks innocently.

“Really great biscuits, Erik. Best yet.” Charles says as Erik continues to glare at him.

“Really Charles. Is that how low you’ll stoop?”

“Have you ever considered giving up all of that doctoring you do to go into baking?” Charles muses, wiping some crumbs off his lips and he watches Erik’s eyes briefly follow his fingers.

“You never dated Scott over Christmas.” Erik spits out.

Charles knows he’s blushing at this point and hopes he’s at least blushing prettily. Maybe prettily enough to get himself fucked and then he can continue trying to convince Erik. A post-coital Erik is usually 45% more agreeable. Charles has done the math.

“Well, that might be the case, but he seriously would have gone if I asked him to.”

“Because he’s a douche.”

“Yes dear.”

“I’m Jewish.” Erik mutters, as if that will end this discussion.

“You’re a fucking atheist, darling. I’m pretty sure you’re a card carrying member.”

“Atheist Jew,” Erik mutters, “which means going to any church will make me turn to dust and blow away.”

“Dr. Lehnsherr, you know that’s physiologically impossible. You’re the one here who went to med school.”

Erik mutters something about Charles being endlessly annoying which makes Charles smile. He is much closer to victory. Now to bring up the piece de resistance.

“Raven and Hank will be there.” Charles says, “they’re flying in from London.”

Raven has been in London for the last six months after receiving an artist residence at a museum there. Hank had taken time off from his studies and the two of them took all their fabulousness to London. Charles knows that London is lucky, but he and Erik are not. They both miss Sunday dinners and Raven’s general craziness. Charles watches as a genuine smile engulfs his husband’s face at this news.

“That’s fantastic. Wait...Charles, when did you find out?” Erik asks, sounding a bit suspicious that Charles has withheld this bit of information knowing that Erik cannot resist spending time with his main conspirator in life, even if it includes high church and incense. He’s not wrong that Charles is entirely capable of stooping to withholding information in order to convince Erik of something, but in this case he’d actually gotten the email from his sister that very morning, in a case of perfect timing.

“She emailed me this morning, love.” Charles says, trying not to sound too smug. Erik looks at him warily for a long moment then he sighs heavily, a sure sign of capitulation.

“Fine,” Eriks signs. “I’ll go to church with Sharon. Good god, how did I get roped into this?”

“Are atheist Jews allowed to say ‘good god’?” Charles asks.

“Atheist Jews are allowed to say ‘fuck you’.” Erik counters. Charles picks up the last bit of biscuit on his plate.

“Really good biscuit, Erik.” Charles murmurs.

 

~*~

 

“Why are we going to the pet store again?” Erik asks as Charles strides a bit ahead of his husband, who is borderline moping along behind him on the sidewalk.

“Those damn dogs!” Charles says a bit irritably. It’s not the first time he’s reminded Erik why they have to go on this particular errand. “you know she loves those dogs.”

“I know she’s a goddamn nut case.”

“Well, yes. She is my mother after all. Doesn’t nutcase come as default?” Charles says as he pushes through the door of the pet store, a bell announcing their entrance. An employee standing by a display of dog food waves at them cheerily and asks how they are doing. Charles answers ‘fine’ to her inquiry while Erik bristles next to him. Charles knows he’s in for a diatribe later about how annoyingly fake pet store employees are.

Charles heads to a rack of plush looking dog sweaters and starts leafing through them.

“Sweaters?” Erik says, standing next to him.

“She likes to dress them up.”

“How about a nice bag of kibble?” Erik says, “because I don’t know if I want to suffer the indignity of giving your mother sweaters for her dogs.”

“This one has sequins,” Charles says, ignoring his husband’s grumping, holding out a pink dog sweater towards Erik. “it might look nice on the girl dog. What was her name…”

“Dolly.”

Charles’ has been taking all of this in with a sprinkle of good humor up until this point but it now morphs into an outright grin.

“You know the name of her dogs!” Charles borderline chortles. “Erik Lehnsherr! You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Lucky guess.” Erik grumbles somewhat unconvincingly.

“Mmmmmm hmmmmmm,” Charles hums, “You like the dogs more than you let on.”

“I hate those flea bitten mutts.” Erik mutters.

“Dolly…” Charles says, “Ralphie…”

“Raphael.” Erik corrects then clamps his mouth shut as Charles starts to actually laugh. He holds his sides as he shakes with guffaws over Erik knowing the dogs’ names. The dogs he claims to hate. Erik stands there observing him with a cool eye, waiting for his husband to be done with this public display of mirth.

“I still don’t want to get them sweaters.” Erik mutters.

“I know darling.” Charles manages to gasp, patting his husband sympathetically, “I know.”

 

~*~

 

“We need to discuss our gifts to each other.” Charles says a few days later as Erik is sitting on the couch folding clothes. Charles is peeling off his scrubs from another long shift and he can’t wait to curl up next to Erik and watch some TV before going to bed. He walks naked to the laundry room, noting Erik’s appreciative glance at his bared ass, tosses the scrubs into the wash, then grabs a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

“I like the other outfit better,” Erik murmurs when Charles returns to the living room. “You know, the naked one.”

“Of course you do,” Charles says, refusing to be distracted from what he needs to discuss with Erik. It’s of utmost importance, especially considering what he’d discovered in his husband’s pocket that morning when he was searching for change to use in the vending machine. “Now you know we’ll be at the mansion for Christmas day, right?”

“Mmmmm hmmmmm,” Erik nods, not paying attention as he picks up two mismatched socks and looks puzzled. “Really, Charles, I’m going to buy us all white socks from now on. Does that dryer eat them or something?”

“So that means I’ll be opening my gift from you there.” Charles says, ignoring Erik’s sock dilemma.

“Yes,” Erik says, holding up one of his t-shirts and starting to fold it.

“And I found this receipt in your pocket this morning.” Charles continues, “from, um, our favorite store.”

“Dean and Deluca? I don’t remember going there recently.” Erik says smoothly, the t-shirt folded and put neatly on the couch next to him.

At this point Charles is torn between thinking that his husband is truly this dense or that Erik is playing him. Erik peeks from behind a pair of boxers he’s grabbed from the pile and Charles can see a slight smile in his eyes despite his best attempt to look entirely innocent.

“Erik Lehnsherr!” Charles sputters, “not THAT favorite store. The OTHER favorite store. You know what I mean.”

Erik is now smiling indicating that yes, he does know what Charles means.

“I love you Charles,” Erik says with a smile.

“So help me god, Erik Lehnsherr, if I open one of my presents on Christmas morning in front of my mother and her corgis and it turns out to be a vibrator….”

“Or a butt plug,” Erik adds in a helpful tone.

“Erik!”

“Or our favorite lube. We’re running out, you know.”

“Good god, ERIK!”

“Flavored condoms.”

“I hate you.”

“Edible panties.”

“Fuck off, Erik.”

“You know, Charles, you could avoid all of this quite easily.”

Charles looks at Erik for a long moment.

“Pray tell, Erik, how would I do that?” Charles says cooly.

“You can open your present right now,” Erik says a bit lasciviously, and his smile makes Charles’ cock start to tingle despite the fact that he’s close to bone-weary from work. “It would spare Sharon the shock, although I was figuring that after enough gin, she wouldn’t even notice.

Charles stares at Erik for a long moment. Then he speaks, and against his better judgement, asks, “Did you get more lube?”

“Of course!” Erik says, giving Charles a mock look of shock. “I always stock up when I go shopping.”

Charles sighs then starts to strip off the sweatpants and t-shirt he’d put on seven minutes prior and Erik practically growls as he watches him.

“Vibrator or butt plug?” Charles asks, walking over to Erik and putting out his hand. Erik puts the basket of laundry down on the floor and takes the offered hand.

“Both?” Erik says, sounding happy, “I splurged a bit.”

“Ohhh, sounds lovely dear,” Charles says as he pulls his husband towards the bedroom, “we’ll have to decide which to use first.”

Not long later Erik is lying on his back, arms and legs splayed out so he's taking up most of the bed. His cock is soft and spent and his head is tipped back, eyes closed. He looks utterly debauched.

"Oh Charles," Erik groans, "oh your mouth. God your mouth...."

Charles grins up at his husband from where he's kneeling between his knees.

"The butt plug worked out okay."

"Yes," Erik says, panting a bit, “very good. Umph.”

Charles smiles. He loves seeing Erik undone, rendered unable to form any sort of decent sentence and threatening to write sonnets about his lips. It’s one of his favorite versions of his husband.

“So….” Charles says.

“So,” Erik echoes, “your turn?”

Oh yes, Charles thinks. He is indeed rather turned on and would like that remedied, but there is one thing he needs to do first. Since they are exchanging their more naughty presents at the moment.

“I just need to do one thing, darling,” Charles says, “and then I fully expect you to shove that vibrator up my ass and make me come.”

“Ass.” Erik says, smiling slyly. Really? Charles throws him an exasperated glance. Still, Erik loves his ass and this means he’s going to love his present. Charles gets up and walks to the closet, his cock aching and heavy between his legs, but it’s just going to have to wait. He rummages around in the bottom and finds the present he’d wrapped and placed there a couple weeks ago. He turns back and walks back to where Erik is now lying with his eyes closed looking like he might fall asleep. No way, you bastard, Charles thinks. Not quite yet. He pokes Erik a little who startles a bit and looks at him with drowsy eyes.

“Here.” Charles says, handing him the present, “you can never say I don’t love you because I’m pretty sure this proves it.”

Erik takes the package and turns it in his hands. Charles flops onto the bed and watches him thinking about how much he loves those hands, big and square with such long fingers that….gah. Charles cock twitches a bit and he wills it to be just a bit more patient. He’s pretty sure after this they are both going to be very satisfied.

“A book?” Erik says, giving Charles a puzzled look. “I gave you a very lovely package of adult toys and you give me a book.”

“Erik!” Charles says, “trust me. You’ll like it. As much as the butt plug. I promise.”

“Okay.” Erik says, then he takes an edge of the wrapping paper and tears it. Then he tears another piece off, until he’s holding what appears to be a photo book in his hands. The cover is plain black, sophisticated, but with nothing to indicate the contents.

“Open it.” Charles says, biting his lip.

Erik flips it open to the first page and his eyes grow wide.

“Oh Charles,” Erik whispers, looking up at Charles with eye full of wonder. “It’s your ass.”

“A whole book of it.” Charles says, trying to hold back his laughter. “All for you. I grabbed your phone and got all the ass shots off it.”

“There are quite a few,” Erik muses.

“Then I had some professional photos done, um, all prominently featuring my ass. There are quite a few Paris ass shots too. It seems you spent quite a bit of time on our honeymoon admiring my ass.”

The fact that Charles is having a semi-serious conversation about his own ass should say how much he loves this man.

“Why yes. I did,” Erik says, his voice brimming with emotion, “It’s rather tight and lovely and, oh Charles. This is...it’s just too much.”

“All for you, my love.”

At this point Erik sets the book on the bed, rolls over and kisses Charles very thoroughly, until Charles feels dizzy. Then he kisses him again and Charles hips start to move on their own accord, his cock aching to get back to their original business.

“Erik,” Charles manages to say between kisses, and it seems that Erik has decided that kissing him endlessly is what needs to be done right now, “Um, darling?”

“Yes, my love?” Erik whispers before kissing him again.

“The vibrator?” Charles manages to gasp, “Um, please?”

Erik laughs and gives Charles a quick, perfunctory kiss on his lips and his hands reach to grab a handful of the aforementioned Charles’ Ass.

“Of course, my love.”

 

~*~

 

“Two more days until Christmas,” Charles says as he leans against Erik. They are walking arm in arm down the street towards the annual Christmas Market that takes place in the business district of their neighborhood. The air is crisp and there are tiny snowflakes drifting down, leaving white flecks on the shoulders of Erik’s wool coat. Charles loves it when it snows. The entire world seems fresher the night isn’t quite as dark and it’s wonderful. They stroll back tall skinny townhouses just like theirs that are adorned with lights and Charles thinks that maybe he’ll make Erik put some up next year. Then again, maybe not. He sees too many injuries coming in to the emergency room from people falling off ladders while putting up lights and he’d like to avoid that type of thing.

They’re heading to the mansion tomorrow morning. Sharon is sending a car, as usual, and they finished their wrapping the day before. The only thing left to do is snuggle up next to Erik and enjoy the quiet before the storm that’s a Sharon Xavier Christmas. Charles thinks about how this is his favorite holiday. It’s one of the few that Sharon actually went all out for, and sometimes the mansion became a truly magical place. One year she even hired someone to make fake snow in the ballroom for him and Raven. Birthdays might be forgotten, and she spent one Fourth of July passed out in her bedroom, but Christmas was always something special for Charles and Raven.

“What were your Christmases like,” Charles asks as they round a corner and see the lights of the market in the distance. Charles can’t wait to cradle a cup of spiced wine and he hopes he can get some chestnuts before they’re sold out this year. Erik glances over at him and Charles sees some sadness there that surprises him. It occurs to him that he’s never asked Erik about this before.

“They were okay,” Erik says, his voice bland. “They’re good now, you know, with you, but as a kid….”

Erik’s voice trails off and Charles squeezes his husband’s hand. Erik didn’t have Sharon, and there are a lot of things that drive him batty about his eccentric mother, but at this moment he’s grateful that she did one thing right.

“I’m sorry, love.” Charles says softly.

“It’s not that they were bad,” Erik says, “it’s just that after my mother died I was alone for most of them. Some foster homes were better than others, some were unbearable. Then I was old enough to be on my own, and there was never anyone to celebrate with. I just grew to see Christmas as something I had to get through. It wasn’t…”

Erik’s voice trails off again and he turns to look at Charles.

“...it wasn’t special like it is with you.”

Charles has felt that Erik has been humoring him as he puts on the really bad Christmas sweater Raven gave him one year, the one that was a joke and he loved it, and sings Christmas carols starting on Thanksgiving, and insists they drag a real tree home on the train. Now Charles sees that Erik doesn’t see this time of year the same as him, and it makes him ache a little and want to soothe away those years.

“I’m sorry you were alone,” Charles says, stopping to look up the man who has given him everything, and he wants to give everything back. He wants to take all of that away and give him magic, just like Charles got every year. If there was a way he could go back, he would. He would find Erik as a boy and do everything he could think of to make it all better.

Erik’s breath hitches a little, as if he’s holding something back, then he smiles, reaching to brush a stray lock of hair off Charles’ forehead, and Charles loves the intimate swipe of Erik’s cold fingers across his skin.

“I’m not anymore,” Erik says. “so far this has been my best Christmas ever.”

Charles feels his eyes start to fill with tears. Dammit. What would he have done if Erik hadn’t decided to annoy the shit out of him on the train that day? He would have missed out on the best thing in his life, on this moment, standing with the snow drifting down around them, starting to stick to the sidewalk. Charles grips the lapels of Erik’s coat and pulls him towards him, stands up on his toes and places a firm kiss on his husband’s cold lips.

“Mine too,” Charles whispers, then kisses him again. No crazy thing Sharon could do tops Christmas with Erik. They break apart and Charles winds his arm around Erik’s waist and tucks his head into Erik’s shoulder. They walk two more blocks and the Christmas Market looms in front of them. There are temporary wooden stalls erected along the street and each one is decorated with white lights. Each stall is filled to the brim with cookies or ornaments or snow globes. There is a group of carolers standing on the corner singing ‘Silent Night’ in German and loudspeakers play Christmas music. There are people everywhere, some carrying those paper cups of spiced wine, children running in and out of the crowd, circling round the legs of their parents, faces smiling from behind scarves.

“Charles,” Erik gasps, “it’s...it’s like Germany. Like when I was a kid. They had these in every town. Just like this.”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Charles asks, tilting his head up and smiling. “I come here every year and now we can come here together. It can be our tradition.”

“Yes,” Erik says, pulling Charles closer, “ours.”

 

~*~

 

When the car arrives to pick them up, Charles sees that Sharon has sent the limo this time and he rolls his eyes. Of course. Leave it to mother to start the festivities in a big manner. When he and Erik duck through the door he discovers it’s actually for a more practical reason because Hank and Raven are sitting in the back, smashed together despite the fact that the back can hold eight people easily.

“Raven!” Charles says as his sister launches herself across the limo and throws her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Charles! Charles, Charles, Charles!” Raven squeals, “Surprise, big brother!”

“Surprise is right,” Charles says, grinning.

“We just got in and thought we’d surprise you,” Hank says, still a man of few words, but they are always effective. Charles sees that Raven is now platinum blonde and that Hank has platinum tips. They must have a found a good hairdresser in London so they could keep up their fashion habit.

“Erik.” Raven says stoically, nodding towards Erik.

“Raven.” Erik replies, his tone equally serious.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Raven says, then launches herself at him too and Charles sees a smile on his husband’s face. “I’ve missed you two both so much.”

The ride to the mansion includes a bottle of very good French champagne and non-stop chatter from Raven. Charles hears all about London, that it’s dreary, that she loves the fellowship and is doing some of her best work yet. Charles feels his stomach drop a little. It sounds like Raven loves London, and what if she decides it’s better than New York and stays…. Charles pushes the thought away, deciding that he’ll just think about things like that later. It’s Christmas, goddammit.

“Do you think Sharon will make it snow again this year?” Raven says eagerly.

“You wish for that every year.” Charles says, “she only did it once, you know.”

“Well, hopefully she’ll have the homemade eggnog.” Raven says, sounding a little disappointed at the chances that snow will happen in the ballroom.

“And the rum,” Charles adds.

“The rum balls.” Raven says. “Oh, I love the rum balls so much. Especially when I’m stoned.”

Charles throws a glare at his sister and she smiles.

“No worries brother. I don’t plan to partake. It’s a Sharon Christmas after all. I don’t need to be altered to have it be entirely bizarre.”

Charles laughs. Yes, his mother has a way of making things surreal.

“What about the year she hired little people to play elves.” He says and Raven throws herself backwards as she laughs.

“Oh god, yes. I’d forgotten entirely, but yes.”

“Wait,” Erik says from next to Charles. He’s been sitting quietly most of the ride, letting Charles and Raven dominate the conversation with their Christmas memories, “she hired little people to play elves? Isn’t that a little offensive?”

“Yes, darling.” Charles says, patting Erik’s thigh. “she did that. Mother isn’t known for her sensitivity by a long shot.”

“And the tree for the dogs,” Raven snorts, “I’m sure she’ll have a tree for the dogs again.”

“Oh god,” Charles says, “those damn dogs.”

The limo pulls up to the mansion which Charles sees is covered in Christmas lights. Oh my, it seems Sharon decided to decorate outside this year as well. The whole things is swathed in tiny twinkling white lights, and he wonders how much Sharon paid to have this done. Raven, who is sitting across from him, gasps when she sees the display.

“Shit,” Hank says, looking out the window. “That’s a huge fucking waste of electricity.”

“THAT,” Charles says, turning away from the limo window to look at Hank, “is a Sharon Christmas.”

It’s crazy and insane. It’s magical. Charles smiles.

“I’m guessing there’s a good chance of snow this year,” Raven says, her face engulfed in a huge child-like grin and she’s clapping her hands together in glee.

Sharon is at the door when they all come piling out of the limo. She’s holding her signature high ball and is dressed in a overly formal red gown. As they walk towards the door she signals one of the staff to grab their luggage out of the limo. Charles is the first to give her a big hug.

“Really mother,” he says, “the whole mansion?”

She smiles at him and takes a sip of her drink. “My children are home for Christmas,” she says coyly, “and this year we have more people to celebrate with. I wanted it to be special.”

It’s special alright.

Next is Raven.

“Nicely done Sharon,” Raven says, giving Sharon a kiss on each cheek, “but did you do the snow?”

“You’ll have to see.” Sharon says with a smile and Raven squeals because she knows this means there will be a winter wonderland in the ballroom.

“Sharon.” Erik says politely when it’s his turn.

“Erik.” She answers in the same tone.

“How are the dogs. Did you ever find out what Dolly ate that made her so sick?”

Charles cocks an eyebrow at this exchange. Seems Erik and Sharon have been emailing each other more than he realized. About the dogs.

“Oh, give me a hug, Erik. We can talk about the dogs later.” Sharon says as she grabs hold of Charles’ husband and gives him a very un-Sharon-like hug. Where did this man come from who has entirely bewitched his mother? What the hell?

Lastly is Hank.

“Hanky,” Sharon says, giving him a huge hug, causing Hank’s eyes to go wide in surprise.

Raven leans towards Charles and whispers, “It’s her secret plan to kill us with niceness.” No kidding, Charles thinks to himself.

“I heard that Raven,” Sharon says and Raven sticks her tongue out, looking ever so slightly like a petulant sixteen year old.

The ballroom is indeed decorated. There are fake trees lining the walls and when they walk in snow starts to fall softly from the ceiling. Raven runs out into the middle of it and twirls, laughing the whole time.

“I can see why you love Christmas,” Erik says, squeezing Charles’s hand. “This is amazing.”

“It’s fucking nuts.” Charles says. “That’s what it is.”

“In a nice way,” Erik says.

It’s like Sharon either goes big or she does nothing at all, and Charles has learned over the years to accept what she offers and expect no more. All of this means she’ll probably forget his birthday this year, but for right now, he’s going to enjoy Christmas.

They end up in one of the huge guest rooms on the main floor, complete with a fireplace and sitting area. Sharon has had the staff light fire and Charles sits by it, warming his hands, as Erik puts their clothes into the drawer of one of the dressers.

“Dinner will be at five thirty.” Charles says, “rack of lamb.”

“Sounds good.” Erik murmurs.

“Then the carolers.”

“Okay,” Erik says, sounding relaxed and agreeable.

“The the live nativity.” Charles says, holding back a smile.

“Seriously?” Erik asks, “I mean, I thought your own personal carolers were a bit much, but…”

“I’m kidding,” Charles says, looking up at his husband, who is standing staring at the bed.

“You know,” Erik says, looking over at him, “We have an hour before dinner.”

“Yes,” Charles says slowly.

“And this bed looks very comfortable.”

“Erik.”

“I mean, I full expect to fuck you in it several times before we go back to the city. Especially since I know you enjoy events with your mother much more when you’re post-coital.”

Charles swallows and his mouth feels dry. “Most things are better post-coitial, darling. Haven’t I taught you anything, Erik?”

“You have taught me many things, Charles.” Erik says, smiling, and it’s not one of his funny smiles, or a mischievous smile. It’s sweet and it’s real. It takes Charles’ breath away.

“Like?” Charles asks, caught up in the moment, and suddenly even a quick romp in the bed is forgotten.

“Like how to love Christmas.” Erik answers, and Charles feels his heart melt. He’s no longer focused on Erik’s promise of sex and he looks at his husband who is looking back at him with soft eyes full of love.

“Erik?” Charles says, feeling overwhelmed.

“Yes?”

“You are sweet to offer sex, but….”

“But?”

“I think I just want you to hold me for a bit.” Charles says quietly.

“Okay,” Erik answers. There will be plenty of time for sex. Right now Erik has told him the sweetest thing anyone has ever said and Charles wants to wrap his arms around him, bury his nose in the crook of his neck and thank the universe that they have each other.

 

~*~

 

Church isn’t so bad. Mainly because Erik drags Charles out halfway through the service, telling him the incense is going to making him sneeze then proceeds to kiss him senseless in a musty back hallway that smells like all churches seem to.

“It just feels a bit naughty to be doing this,” Charles protests between kisses, “if someone catches us…”

“Fuck them all,” Erik answers, kissing him again and Charles moans and pulls Erik even closer. If this goes on much longer he’s going to beg Erik to fuck him against the wall, and knowing Erik, he’ll pound into him just as some poor unsuspecting acolyte wanders through the hallway, meaning Sharon would going to have to give a huge donation to make things right with the scandalized clergy. Still, Erik’s mouth is persistent, his hands are wandering into all the nooks and crannies that make Charles crazy and Charles is getting hard. He thinks maybe if they do it very fast….

Just then the familiar carol ending the service rises out of the sanctuary and Charles freezes.

“Fuck.” Erik mutters, breaking their kiss and Charles dips his head to rest it on Erik’s chest, breathing like he’s been running a race. Or making out for the last twenty minutes.

“God.” Charles murmurs, wanting to be anywhere else but here.

“Yes, I think we were about to give him quite a show.” Erik whispers against Charles’ forehead.

“Ha.” Charles huffs.

Just then Raven comes around the corner and stops when she sees them wrapped up in each other.

“I told you they were up to no good,” she calls over her shoulder and a split second later Hank appears behind her, hulking above her. “Come on you assholes, the car is waiting.”

“Damn,” Charles says, not sure if he can move quite yet, so he stays there clinging to Erik, trying to will away his erection enough that he can make it out to the car.

“Don’t worry,” Erik says softly, kissing Charles on the top of his head. “I have plans for later. You won’t spend all night frustrated. I promise.”

They return to the mansion and instead of going to bed, everyone ends up sprawled on couches in front of the fireplace in the living room, the giant tree Sharon has decorated with all varieties of dog-themed ornaments towering above them. Sharon has one of the dogs lying across her lap. Erik has Charles lying across his and his hand is playing idly with Charles’ hair, carding through it in a manner to gentle that Charles feels himself being slowly lulled to sleep.

“Not yet, my love.” Erik leans down to whisper into Charles’ ear. “I still have plans.”

Charles smiles. He is deeply content, lying with his husband, his sister and her husband telling about the time they met a famous artist and managed to not only insult him but the tiny dog he carried with him, and his mother actually smiling and not entirely drunk. It reminds him of the night they spent in the bar before Raven’s wedding, and Charles hopes he can have more of these moments. It’s like he and Raven have found the people who finally complete their family.

Charles feels himself start to drift off again and this time Erik squirms under him and pushes him off his lap and to a stand.

“I must take my husband to bed now, otherwise he’s going to sleep here all night.” Erik says smoothly, “and we all know Kris Kringle is coming.”

“Goodnight Charles,” Raven says, unfolding herself from next to Hank and coming to wrap her arms around him. “I love you, brother.”

“I love you too,” Charles says, “see you in the morning.”

Sharon reaches her hand and and Charles takes it.

“Goodnight my son,” Sharon says. “Sleep well.”

“I will, mother.” Charles says, leaning harder against Erik.

Charles says goodnight to Hank, who is again cradling Raven against him and Hank replies with a nod. Then he and Erik make their way to their room. When they get to the door, Erik stops and tells Charles that he wants him to wait in the hallway for just a moment.

“I have an early present for you,” Erik says, smiling.

“Okay,” Charles answers, grinning lazily. He’ll stand here forever if Erik asks him. Whatever he wants, Charles will do. Bring him the moon and stars. Marry him even though they didn’t even date. Anything. Everything. He’ll do everything.

Erik goes into their room and shuts the door. Charles leans on the wall, lost in his own thoughts. Then Erik calls his name and Charles pushes the door open. He looks at the scene before him.

The room has a few candles around it, the electric kind because Erik knows that Charles worries about the flames catching something on fire. There is a fire just started in the fireplace, a small flame starting to lick up between the logs, and it casts a bit of a warm orange light into the room. Erik is naked on the bed, gorgeous in the dim light, propped up on one elbow. He’s looking at Charles with undisguised lust, and on his head is…

Oh god.

A Santa hat. One of those cheesy polyester Santa hats you find in the bodega down the street. Charles eyes travel down Erik’s chest, across his flat belly, following the trail of hair downwards that ends at…

OH GOD.

Erik’s cock. It’s half hard and it has a fucking red bow tied around it. A giant, gaudy red ribbon.

“You gave me your ass for Christmas,” Erik says, smiling, “so I’m giving you my cock. I know you like it a lot.”

Charles swallows. Yes. Yes he does like it a lot. Best Christmas present ever.

“Erik?” Charles says weakly, and he’s no longer one teensy bit sleepy as he stares at his husband who spreads his legs a little, letting his knees fall to either side and is suddenly looking entirely debauched and a bit like a porn magazine spread.

“Yes?” he says, his voice tinged with laughter.

“I love you.” Charles says, and he kicks off his shoes then starts to pull off his sweater, suddenly unable to wait any longer to press himself against Erik, kiss Erik take that so very lovely present of a cock in his mouth…

“I love you too Charles,” Erik says, his eyes following Charles hands as he unbuttons his pants and pushes them down, stepping out of them. “And Charles?”

“Yes?” Charles says as he crawls onto the bed, sprawling across his husband, sliding up until his lips are hovering over Erik’s.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

 

~fin~


End file.
